We Played Hell's Escalators and Elevators
by Beautifully-Damaged
Summary: Gen, angst, dark, multiple character death, warnings for suicide/murder. Sam is turning fully Demon and his thirst for blood is unquenchable. Azazel placed a spell on baby Sam changing the boys' future in ways they never could of imagined..


i checked for errors so many times i lost count. i give up now. besides this piece was driving me bonkers and i just want to get rid of it. forgive, ignore and enjoy.

xxxxx

Sam was turning fully Demon and purely evil. John may have fairly accurately guessed about his youngest son's dilemma but he had no idea about the curse Azazel had placed on baby Sam that horrific November night.

Sam wasn't allowed to kill himself. It was a physical impossibility, discovered and realized by Sam after the twentieth failed attempt on his own life. Azazel had concocted a magical curse inside of his own blood then allowed it to drip into baby Sammy's awaiting and unsuspecting innocent body. It was a complicated mixture of Lillith's blood, Hellhound hormones, a binding spell and an adrenaline enhancer straight from Lucifier's own private physician.

Who knew Hell had doctors?

Almost of all Hell's inhabitants helped create, shape and form every evil, wicked, unnatural thing Sam was becoming. He was primed and prepped from month six of his soon to be very short human existence. But Sam didn't believe in destiny and he certainly wasn't going to willfully become Hell's puppet.

xxxXxxx

His desire for Demon blood had changed him. Drinking blood and needing it at all cost, no matter the time of day or night seemed to be the only thing Sam could think about. It got so bad that in between his demon juice suckfest out of Ruby, he started to desire any blood...human or not, rat, dog, bovine..it didn't matter, so long as he got blood.

Dean did his best to help, he truly did, yet his very best; for the first time in the Winchester brother dynamic duo, wasn't good enough. Sam was too strong and too far gone for Dean to help anymore. Sam was beyond any form of real help now and there was only one solution for a mad, rabid dog right?

xxxXxxx

Dean tried everything he knew to help his brother. The first thing, in a long line of attempts to help Sam, Dean knew he had to get Ruby out of the picture. The night he set out to kill her, to hopefully help end what he referred to as 'your blind addiction' was to kill that '_skank, hell's-whoring bitch(!) Ruby.'_

Of course the entire night was a huge fiasco.

Dean almost ended up dead, twice; and nearly screwed up having Ruby show up at all. Worse of all, because of Dean's insistence on killing her and Sam of course not wanting her dead, the boys' relationship bordered a tense insanity. Sam had attacked Dean in an attempt to stop him from going after her and they fought each other hard for nearly twenty minutes. Everything they came in contact with in the motel room was destroyed or damaged. The frames to the twin beds, the lamps, the mirror above the dresser, the small, circular table in the eating area..hell..they even managed to knock the bathroom door off one of its hinges.

Both boys were battered, sore, bruised and bleeding, but Dean won. Somehow, mostly from pure strength of will, determination and pure love for a man he cared about more than himself, Dean got the better of Sam. Not an easy to task to be assured. Sam was huge(!), the reach of his arm longer than that of his brother's, and with his height/weight advantage, it had been a long time since Dean had won any physical altercations against Sam. Nevertheless, Dean did win, and as he drug his brother's unconscious form across the floor and chained him to the bathroom sink he apologized.

_'i'm sorry sammy you stupid oversized son of a bitch..but it's for your own damn good.'_

It took three days for Dean to convince Ruby to appear at his side without Sam being around and when she finally did, he shoved the Demon killing knife so far into her belly the tip came out the other side of her body. She died slowly and painfully then disappeared in a flash of gray colored ash. During her last moments Dean told her,

_'adios bitch. i always told you i was going to kill you.'_

xxxXxxx

The thing most frightening to Dean and even Sam, about his cravings was his desire for fresh human blood. The biggest problem being was Sam never left them alive when he was done. Both men knew it was wrong but Sam had to be the one to bring it to halt. Even though Dean got rid of Ruby, it didn't help stop his brother whatsoever. Sam continued killing for what he needed and Dean felt powerless to stop him. After all, how does one stop a six foot four, two hundred pound rabid dog?

Sam was out of control and it all had to stop before it got any worse.

Dean owed him that much.

_'come on man..you're my big brother dean, you have to, i want you to..in the end it had to be you..i love you man, i always will and it is the only solution we've got, i can't do it myself.. 'm'sorry.'_

xxxXxxx

"Come on Dean, you can do this. You just have to. I can't do it myself."

Dean's body was shaking uncontrollably. Although his tremors were small, they still existed and impaired his ability to complete even the simplest and most innate task of opening a bottle of beer.

Sam watched his brother fumble with the metal cap to the bottle for nearly a minute. Although it was obvious it wasn't a twist off and required an opener, it didn't matter. Dean stood twisting and turning and twisting until his knuckles became white.

Sam had never been one to tell Dean what to do outright, but tonight..tonight wasn't just any night and he believed the direct approach, especially considering the circumstances, was his best bet.

"Dean. You shouldn't be drinking right now."

The eldest Winchester brother couldn't believe his ears..shook his head in utter disbelief at what Sam had just said. Dean wasn't yelling at his brother. He couldn't nor would he do that right now if he were offered to have anything in the world he wanted, Dean would not have been able to yell at Sam.

Ironically the only thing Dean would wish for is that his brother wasn't asking him to do the single hardest thing he ever had to do in his life.

Killing your family member..your own blood..your only single living warm blooded breathing conscious-grounding best friend, was not something a Winchester..alone Dean, does.

Yet that's what Sam had done. Sam had asked his brother to kill him, to shoot him dead with two shots. Characteristic of Sam he was oddly specific about it. He told Dean he wanted one shot to be placed at in angle from behind so it would directly hit the center of his brain, and the second shot, he wanted at the base of the skull to sever the brain stem.

Dean thought he was going to hurl from just hearing Sam's detailed instructions.

xxxXxxx

Dean was a fucking train wreck.

When he spoke his tone was full of sorrow and fear, his voice quavered to different levels and shook along with the small tremors, which were still running rampant throughout his body.

"Y-you can't possibly be serious? Christ Sammy, look at me. Of course I need a drink. If I had a hundred drinks it still wouldn't be enough."

Dean looked down at the bottle and couldn't understand for the life of him why he couldn't open it.

Suddenly he shouted, "Son of a bitch!", turned on his heel and threw the bottle against the wall.

Pieces of thick, brown glass shattered everywhere. Sam quickly turned his head to the side and rolled his shoulders hoping to avoid the onslaught of flying glass; which, in retrospect, Sam found amusing considering what he was asking his brother to do.

Sam didn't have to look at Dean to know what he was going to do next. He could have been blind in both eyes and he would have known that Dean had plopped himself down on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, elbows resting on his strong thighs, wringing his hands, head hung low..he knew his brother that well.

xxxXxxx

From his seated position on the lopsided, broken down bed, Dean stared at the floor without saying a word. He mulled over a million things in his mind he wanted to say, but couldn't. Images and memories, good and bad, swarmed through his brain so fast he felt like had vertigo.

He learned that evening that a person could actually get literally, physically, seriously fucking ill from feeling too much ..

_ Baby Sammy kicking hard in mommy's tummy every time Dean laid his hand on her belly and whispered 'i can't wait to see you'.._

_The pure elation he witnessed on his mother's face the first time she watched Dean hold baby Sam in his tiny but confident arms .._

_A toy filled room.. a tear-soaked teddy bear shirt.. a hard floor.. him sitting in the corner rocking himself, John kneeling in front of him.._

_-'whoa whoa there little man..what's wrong Dean, tell daddy'.._

_-'can't kiss Sammy night in his crib, it's too high *sniff*'.._

_-John placing a stack of books against the rails of Sam's crib, 'this should work till I can make a tall stool okay kiddo'.._

_The over powering smell of burning flesh._

_ More panic in his father's voice than he'd ever heard before.. 'Go Dean! Take your brother and run!'_

_ Sitting on the hood of the Impala on a cold November evening and not feeling anything..not anger..not pain..just the heat from his father's trembling form as he leaned against him and stared _at a baby Sammy held fast in John's arms..

_ His first day of school..a complete disaster.. punching the first kid who asked 'what's your mommy's name..' .. the principal and John arguing, John shouting..'it's none of your goddamn business where his mother is! just educate the kid..teach him and keep your nose on your face and out of our business..'_

_Sam bursting through Bobby Singer's front door...'Dean! Dean! I did it! She said yes just like you said she would! I can take her to the dance!'.._

_ Nursing his brother's first hangover.. hiding Sam from their father all day by insisting, ' yes sir, Sam made it to school, but I don't feel good today so I'm staying home.'_

_ The feel of cold steel in his hand and the wicked kick a sawed off shotgun truly produced..Demons, Witches, Bar fights, hustling pool, bad motels and even worse food, stupid Preacher outfits, using Rock-Paper-Scissors game to decide important things although Dean knew he could never beat his brother, arguing over who gets to use which rock stars' name on a credit card, Sam covered in grease and the clueless look on his face when he did his first tune up on the Impala, star-filled skies and hours of nothing..just nothing..except him, his brother and a few six packs..John selling his soul to save Dean's life solely so Dean could continue to not only live but to take care of Sam.. burying his father's dog tags, the Doublemint twins, Jessica, how Sam looked whenever he was upset-Stanford and how his heart broke for the second time in his life, John whispering words he didn't fully understand-words and phrases which NEVER should have been in the same sentence.._

xxxXxxx

But now Dean understood what his father truly meant, and as he broke his gaze at the threadbare, orange colored carpet and his eyes met Sam's, he jumped from the bed, ran into the bathroom and vomited. Sam rose and followed in behind him but stopped right at the entrance to the bathroom. He wanted to be by Dean's side and help if he could but Sam was being realistic, he knew not only was there nothing he could do, but there was so much more to it than that.

Dean needed to learn how to take care of himself because after tonight Sam wasn't going to be around any more-and whether or not Dean realized it- Sam was going to die that very night and Dean himself was going to be the one to pull the trigger.

xxxXxxx

With his stomach contents emptied, Dean wiped his mouth across the cuff his shirt, stood and turned to face Sam. His mouth was dry and his throat so constricted he couldn't swallow and he barely choked out the words.

"Sammy.. y-you literally don't know what you're asking of me. Please.. dear fucking God.. just-just..please...you can't, you-I-I just can't Sam.."

"Yes you can Dean and I do understand what I'm asking of you is hard. But trust me when I say if there was any other way I wouldn't ask, but I can't kill myself, I've tried. And that includes suicide by cop, suicide by bar fight or car accident. Nothing works but if you pull the trigger, if you do it without me watching, if you can just come up from behind me I'm pretty sure it will work."

"No. No. You can't possibly know what you're asking of me Sammy, or if you do, then you're one sadistic little son of a bitch for lying this at my feet."

The second the words left Dean's lips he regretted it instantly.

"Oh shit Sammy. I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean that."

Sam looked around at their surroundings and decided although the rest of the motel room wasn't in much better condition than the bathroom after they trashed it days earlier fighting over Ruby, at least it didn't smell like puke, and Sam didn't really want his last conversations with his brother to occur in such conditions.

He tried suggesting they go sit at what was left of the table and talk but Dean wouldn't budge. He didn't want to _'finish' _anything with his brother. Dean didn't want their conversations to ever end, he loved Sam more than himself, more than John, more than anything in the whole entire shitty world and some how believed if he didn't move from that spot that maybe..just maybe..the entire situation and Sam's fucked up request would simply just disappear.

Dean had never been so wrong in his life.

With a heartfelt sigh, Sam resigned to continue standing in the doorway. Dean had always been stubborn and he knew arguing with him was not the last thing he wanted to do with Dean before the end.

Hesitantly he began.."Dean..I do understand. Or, at least I'm pretty sure I do, but even Dad told you one day you might have to do this. Why do you think that was huh? There's a reason we both asked you. A reason why I'm asking you now. I guess in the end it always had to be you. Come on man... I'm running out of time, the cravings are coming on strong and I don't know how long I can hang around before I have to go and do something about it. You know I can't do it myself and Dad's not here or he sure the hell would. "

"Don't you dare compare me to Dad Sammy." Dean's voice was raised but he wasn't trying to shout or yell, he simply could not handle what he knew deep inside he was about to do.

"Jesus Sammy..j-just Jesus fuck."

Unshed tears burned Dean's eyes and he choked on the fire hot bile which steadily rose in his throat.

Sam could no longer handle looking at his brother's facial expressions, nor he could stand one more second of the look in Dean's eyes. To Sam, Dean looked like a frightened, abused puppy and although Dean's mouth and body was saying 'no', he knew, Sam just knew the reason Dean was acting this way is because he was going to do it.

Instinctively, something deep down inside what was left of Sam's soul told him Dean was actually ready to put a bullet into him at that very moment. It was if he knew that if Dean had to wait any longer he wouldn't be able to.

Sam offered his best smile, walked to where Dean stood, wrapped his brother in a long embrace, his strong tall form pressed harder than ever before against him. Neither man spoke to the other, words at the moment were impossible as nothing could be said which would truly make anything about any of this ok.

There no longer was any choices left for Sam, both Winchesters had exhausted all resources to save him to no avail. So with a final tight grip of Dean's body, Sam released his brother and walked slowly out of the bathroom and stood at the foot of the bed with his back turned to Dean. He feigned having an interest in something in his backpack..all the while just waiting..waiting to hear the familiar solid click of cold steel..the ear deafening ring once a bullet had been fired...he waited.

xxxXxxx

The gun weighed heavy in Dean's trembling hand. He hoped his palms would start to sweat more than they already were, or that his body tremors would cause him to drop the gun..or that Sam would suddenly yell for him to stop...anything..he just couldn't believe he had pulled his gun from his waistband and was now aimed at his own flesh and blood. His brother. His best friend. His true North*. And knowing that in an instant it would all be over, made Dean want to die right along with him.

xxxXxxx

The deadly sound of the trigger being cocked echoed around Dean in a twisted, sick dance of something so far beyond ironic, if the moment weren't so tragic, Dean would of had to laugh. The sound alerted Sam that any second it would happen..Dean would pull the trigger and he'd be dead. Killed by the very hands which loved him most.

xxxXxx

_'take care of Sammy Dean, that's your job..' _

John's words viciously swam repeatedly through his brain.

"I know Dad. I just did."

-end-

xxxXxxx

epilogue

xxxxx

Dean whispered final words so quietly he barely heard himself but Sam heard his brother perfectly.

"I love you Sammy... forgive me.."

The sound of two shots fired in quick succession rang throughout the room and he watched as Sam's head snapped then rolled upon impact of the perfectly lined shots.

Dean watched as his brother's knees buckled, as Sam's body moved with a violent jolt forward then silently fell limp upon the bed. Crimson blood and gray matter was splattered all over the cheap black velvet painting which hung above the bed and Sam's lifeless body.

And as Dean stood with eyes closed, refusing to take in what he knew would be too much to bear, for the third time that evening a Colt revolver rang loudly throughout the cheap Nebraska motel room, killing the last living Winchester.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

*Credit. Line: His true North. It's not mine. Credit to be given to a writer at another site whose name remains anon to respect her privacy.


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